Star Trek: Exodus
by JA Baker
Summary: Fresh out of the Academy, a troubled Ensign finds herself assigned to the USS Exodus, the ship that Star Fleet wishes would get lost in a spacial anomaly...
1. First Assignment

_Okay, this is mainly me making fun of the Star Trek universe (even if I am a life-long Trekkie), so don't take it too seriously. Set towards the end of the Dominion War, so all relevant spoilers apply. Parts of the story will take the form of crew-members logs and letters, while other parts will be regular fiction._

**Star Trek: Exodus  
****Part 1: First Assignment**

_From: Commander Rodriquez, USS _Exodus_ (NCC-1685)  
__To: Vice-Admiral Paris  
__Subject: Ships operational status_

_Sir, as you appear to have ignored my previous dozen reports, I am forced to ask just what Starfleet thinks of my ship and crew? Every time we have requested replacement parts or crew, we have been told that the equipment is on back-order and that BuPers is unable to find available personnel to fill our billets. But, as per the last message I received from your office, I have complied the latest list of problems and malfunctions:_

_Our universal translator is still stuck on 'Yiddish'._

_We are still unable to deactivate the 'Muzak' function on the turbo-lifts._

_Our offensive and defensive systems reduced to, in the words of my tactical officer Lieutenant Keys, "Harsh language and hand gestures."_

_All toilets on C-Deck still inoperative, forcing us to relocate several crew members (I guess there's something to be said for being undermanned)._

_There is also the ongoing problem with our Long-Term Medical Hologram; while we are more than happy to help field-test Dr Zimmerman's latest creation, I have to question just what he was thinking about when he programmed her personality matrix. Several of my crew members still refuse to go anywhere near sickbay._

_The main view-screen on the bridge is still acting up: the only way to get it to work is to hit it repetitively until the image clears up._

_Yours,  
__Maximilian Rodriquez  
__Officer Commanding, USS _Exodus

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Emma MacKenzie looked out of the view port and thrown: it had been decades since the K7 space station had been a major transport hub, and it was just another indication of just what her superiors and instructors at the Academy through of her. It hadn't taken her long to gain a reputation as a trouble maker, and it was probably only the fact that she was the only child of the illustrious Captain Horatio MacKenzie that had stopped them from kicking her out.

Her entire life had been spent under her father's shadow, and his legacy felt like a millstone around her neck. After all, how could she ever live up to the reputation of one of the heroes of the Federation/Cardassian war? Horatio MacKenzie, the man who had, knowing that he was going to his death, ordered the surviving crew off of the all but crippled USS _Helin_, then single handedly pitted it against five _Galor_ class destroyers, buying time for the refuge fleet he had been charged with protecting to escape?

Captain Horatio MacKenzie, the man who had died two months before his daughter was even born, a fact very few of her classmates had worked out before pestering her with questions.

The moment she'd been given notice of her first assignment, she'd felt sure there'd been a mistake: there was no way that someone with her record was going to get a ship-board posting straight away. In fact, she'd expected to find herself posted somewhere like K7 for the foreseeable future, far away from anything remotely approaching advancement. But that was okay by her. In many ways, she'd joined Star Fleet in an attempt to fight back against her father's reputation: the more she screwed up, the more she proved that she wasn't a carbon copy.

Still, assignment to a starship wasn't something even she was willing to pass up, and she'd quickly looked up the _Exodus_ in the fleet register, and it was then that the proverbial other shoe had dropped. No cadet in their right minds would want to be assigned to a ship that should have been decommissioned a century ago, and was only kept in service because it was easier than finding a replacement. Suddenly she realised what the next four years of her life was going to consist of: one out of the way, half-forgotten outpost after another, hauling whatever cargo that couldn't be replicated on sight, as well as the occasional replacement crew member or civilian technician.

A chime sounded through the transport, alerting the passengers that the ship had docked and they were clear to disembark. Grabbing the single duffel bag that constituted her luggage, MacKenzie headed for the airlock. Having been brought up by a mother who made her living as a roving programmer for the Federation Science Bureau had taught her the virtue of travelling light, meaning that she'd never cluttered her life with too many keepsakes. A few holograms of her mother, one of her father, a couple of outfits for when she was off duty and some personal affects were all she needed.

After all, Star Fleet would provide everything else she might need.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Petty Officer Second Class Aidan Donnelly glanced at the PADD he was holding, checking the face it showed against the passengers coming off of the newly arrived transport, waiting somewhat impatiently for the new officer he'd been sent to collect. In truth, picking up new crew members was a job normally given to officers, but with the _Exodus_ operating on such a reduced crew, it fell to him as one of the few crewmen rated to pilot a warp-capable shuttle. Finally the last few passengers disembarked from the civilian transport, and only one of them was dressed in a Star Fleet uniform. Donnelly did a quick double take, and was surprised to see that the woman was dressed in the newer blue/grey uniform, unlike his own, older orange and black all in one. Still, it wasn't that surprising: with exactly two working replicators on the entire ship, the latest uniforms were not considered high priority. Slipping his PADD back into his pocket, he headed over to the woman.

"Ensign MacKenzie, I presume?" He asked, coming to something approaching attention, "Petty Officer Donnelly, USS _Exodus_. Commander Rodriquez sends his regards, and apologises for being unable to rendezvous with your transport directly: the _Exodus_ was unavoidably delayed."

"Well, I can't expect a starship to go out of its way to pick up one lowly Ensign fresh out of the academy." MacKenzie shrugged, "I take it you have a Shuttle or something?"

"Yes, this way." Donnelly gestured down the main corridor, "May I help you with your luggage?"

"No, I'm good." MacKenzie didn't even blink as she fell in step beside her guide. He stood maybe a head taller than her admittedly determinative 137cm, and he must have been at lest 15kg heavier. Yet despite this, he moved fluidly, flowing through the crowd rather than trying to push his way past everyone like a lot of people his size might have. Still, he was Star Fleet, and a life time of being told that they were the ones responsible for her father's death was a hard thing to walk away from, despite the fact that she was now a member.

Her mother hadn't cried, or yelled, or shown any other strong emotion the day she'd found the acceptance letter from the Academy. She'd just looked, disappointed, and perhaps a little betrayed: her only daughter had gone behind her back to join Star Fleet rather than go to University. All she'd said was that her daughter was old enough to make her own mistakes, and had left for work as if nothing had happened.

They hadn't spoken since.

"What can you tell me about the Exodus?" She asked, more to brake the silence than anything else, "I looked it up in the fleet register, but there wasn't much there."

"What's to say? She's a refitted _Constitution_-class starship, last of her kind still in service with Star Fleet." Donnelly shrugged, "Last big re-fit was about ten years ago: they tried to update a lot of her systems, but the upgrades aren't that compatible with the original components, and we still have problems with some of them. After that upgrade, FleetOps sent her out here, along with about a dozen other ships, mainly older _Excelsior_ and _Miranda _class'. But with thing heating up on the Dominion Front, they've all been called away, leaving just us, and we're headed out."

"How far out?"

"Well, the Captain's not said anything, but the scuttlebutt says Cestus and Bellatrix, out by the Gorn Hegemony. Who knows, maybe even further."

"Long way from home, huh?"

"I was born on Al Nath, Sir." Donnelly's tone was curt, an indication that like many people born far out on the edge of the Federation, away from the more highly developed core-worlds, he tended to be overly defensive. Given the jokes that MacKenzie had often heard about such worlds and their inhabitants, he had good reason to feel defensive.

The two of them fell back into silence as they continued on their way.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"The universe looks a lot simpler through the bottom of a glass." The Bolian bartender mused as he poured his customer another drink, "But something tells me that you know that already."

"The universe is as it is; it cares not for how we perceive it." Miles Dexter countered as he watched the rich, amber liquid creep up the sides of the glass, "Would I be a fool if I asked if this was real and not replicated?"

"Real Earth whisky? At these prices?" The bartender laughed, "Not this side of Trill!"

"Figured as much." Dexter tossed back the drink and stood, placing a couple of coins on the counter, "Keep the change." He turned away from the bar, only to find his way blocked by a towering Gorn that hissed at him in its own language.

"My friend doesn't like you." A Chalnoth appeared at the Gorn's side, "He says he knows what you are, that you may fool the humans, but not him."

"Please inform your friend that he is mistaken." Dexter remained calm, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice, "I am human."

The Gorn hissed again, pushing Dexter back against the bar, the high ridges above his eyes flexing with rage.

"He asks that you do not insult his intelligence," The Chalnoth translated, "and also made a comment about your mother that I am afraid does not translate very well."

"Oh really?" Dexter raised an eyebrow, then his eyes narrowed. His right fist shot forward, hitting the reptilian Gorn low in the gut, sending it flying across the room into a table. The two Klingon's there only just managed to get out of the way in time, but Dexter had already moved on to the Chalnoth. The alien tried to draw a disruptor pistol from its holster on his belt, but a spinning kick sent the weapon flying and broke the band.

One of the Klingon's had decided to vent his anger on the still stunned Gorn, while the other drew his D'k tahg and swung it at Dexter. He managed to dodge out of the way just in time, then grabbed the warriors wrist and twisted it round sharply. Thinking quickly, the Klingon followed through with the move, allowing himself to be sent crashing to the floor but avoiding any damage his arm. He retaliated by sweeping his leg round, a move that Dexter allowed to catch him to avoid the chair that the Chalnoth had swung at him. As he fell he reached for his own side arm, and had it drawn and ready by the time he hit the deck.

A bright blue beam hit the Chalnoth square in the chest, and it fell like a puppet with the string cuts. A second beam caught the Gorn in the back as it attempted to throttle its opponent. It slumped forward, pinning the Klingon to the table. Flipping back up to his feet in one gracefully move, he levelled his weapon at the remaining Klingon but held his fire.

"A wise warrior knows that sometimes it is better to pick your battles, then have your battles pick you." He spoke carefully in Klingon, then holstered his weapon and put some more coins down on the bar, "For the damages."

With that, he turned and left the bar, mingling with the crowd outside.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. All I Ask Is A Tall Ship

_Apologies for the delay; my muse has a tendency to jump out on me when I'm not looking._

**Star Trek: ****Exodus  
****Part 2: All I Ask Is A Tall Ship...**

_From: Vice-Admiral Paris, Star Fleet Operations  
__To: Commander Rodriquez, USS _Exodus_ (NCC-1685)  
__Subject: Re; Ships operational status_

_I hardly feel the need to remind someone who served during the Cardassian War that it is almost impossible for Supply to see to the needs of every ship in the fleet. Or the fact that the Exodus is, for obvious reasons, rather low on our list of priorities._

_Still, given you current orders, I will try and find some of the supplies you requested and have them waiting for you on rout._

_Yours,  
__Owen Paris  
__Director  
__Star Fleet Operations_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Donnelly silently led MacKenzie away from the civilian parts of the station to the quieter inner core. The old administrative section was almost empty, lending the long corridors an odd sence of abandonment. They passed only one security guard, just outside the hanger deck, and he only glanced up at them before going back to whatever it was on his terminal screen that he found so interesting. One last corridor led to hatch that opened to reveal a Type-6 Shuttle standing in the middle of a landing pad. Someone had taken a lot of time and effort to carefully paint the name _Falco_ on its nose, along with an almost lifelike image of a large Raptor in flight. Behind that, above the micro nacelles, were clearly visible the_USS__Exodus__NCC-1685_. Donnelly typed a command code into his PADD, and the rear hatch slowly lowered to the deck.

MacKenzie was surprised to see a tall man dressed in civilian cloths laying apparently asleep on one of the benches that ran along either side of the aft cabin. She noticed that Donnelly hesitated slightly, before making his way up the ramp and into the cramped confines of the shuttlecraft.

"You are late." The stranger hissed accusingly as MacKenzie drew level with his head, and she dropped her bag in surprise, "I don't like being kept waiting."

"The Captain said you might not be coming back." Donnelly replied as he sat down behind the helm, the hatch closing automatically as he started to power up the ships systems.

"I go where I chose, when I chose." The stranger stretched out, reminding MacKenzie of a large predatory cat, "Max knows and respects that."

"That's his prerogative." Donnelly looked round, "Ensign Emma MacKenzie, Miles Dexter, our, moral officer."

"Smart ass." Dexter opened his eyes and examined MacKenzie for a moment, "So, you're the warm body Star Fleet sent out, huh?"

"Sir?" MacKenzie blinked, confused.

"You don't have to call me 'sir' or anything else, Ensign; I'm not and officer, or even crew." Dexter explain as he rested his arms behind his head, "I'm sure the rumour mill will fill you in on the rest when we get back."

MacKenzie looked at Donnelly for an explanation, but the Petty Officer just shook his head as he opened a channel "Flight Operations, this is Shuttle _Falco_; requesting clearance to depart, over."

"_Shuttle_ Falco_, this is Flight-Ops._" A bored sounding voice responded, "_You are clear to depart on Vector 151 by 267. Please remember to remain at half-impulse until you clear the outer marker._"

"_Copy that, Flight-Ops; Shuttle_ Falco _now departing._" The lights outside turned red as the atmosphere was vented, and a deep thud resounded through the _Falco_ as the massive outer hatch swung open. Donnelly's hands flew across the controls as he slowly brought the engines on-line and guided the small starship out into open space.

MacKenzie caught a glimpse of the transport that had brought her to the station, but her eyes quickly returned to Donnelly and the controls. Despite completing the helmsman course with one of the highest scores ever recorded at the academy, she had failed spectacularly when it came to shuttles and other small craft. She was convinced that this was in part the fault of her instructor, but the fact remained that while she was rated on any ship-of-the-line currently in use by Star Fleet, she could not officially fly so much as a sub-orbital transport.

"How long to the rendezvous point?" Dexter asked.

"Two hours, assuming they finished that last customs inspection on time." Donnelly explained as K7 shrunk behind them and he started to bring the warp drive on-line, "Just enough time for me to go over the technical specifications for that job the Chief wants my help with later."

"Wake me in two hours." The other man grunted, before closing his eyes and effortlessly going back to sleep.

MacKenzie shrugged as the stars outside the window stretched out and the Falco entered warp, then pulled her own PADD out of her duffel and went back to the book she had been reading on the transport.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

****Official Correspondence**  
******Pathfinder Project****

_From: Dr Isabel,USS _Exodus_ (NCC-1685)  
__To: The Doctor, USS _Voyager_, (NCC-74656)  
__Subject: Re; Your move_

_Queen to queen's level three: checkmate in two._

_Better luck next time,  
__Izzy_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The slight jolt of the _Falco_ dropping out of warp woke MacKenzie, and she opened her eyes in time to see the night side of what had to be an inhabited M-Class planet come into view. Donnelly worked the controls as expertly as before, bring them in on a wide orbit that brought them out of the shadow and into the first rays of dawn. There, rising up out of the blinding light of the systems star like an ascending phoenix, was the _Exodus_. Her bone-white hull reflected the light like a shoot of ice, while it was only her running lights that made the registration markings on the saucer section visible in the deep shadows. Looking closer, she could see some of the upgrades added during the last refit. Most obvious were the two phaser strips running almost all of the way around the saucer section, and the newer deflector emitter at the front of the engineering section. There were also obvious sings of repair, including several hull panels that showed unpainted metal, and scorch marks that could only have come from weapons fire.

What ever else it might be, MacKenzie was beginning to suspect that her first assignment would be anything but dull.

"Falco_, this is_ Exodus:_ welcome home._" A woman's voice came over the com system, "_You are cleared for docking._"

"_Rodger that,_ Exodus; Falco _returning to the nest._" Donnelly responded as he brought the shuttle along the length of the much larger starship, then out and round towards the shuttle-bay at the rear of the engineering section.

The huge clamshell doors opened, and MacKenzie spotted another Type-6 sitting at the ready as they came in to land. There was a faint click as it mated with the docking clamps, and the doors closed behind them, allowing the cavernous bay to be re-pressurised. Dexter stood, moving without a sound, and hit the controls to lower the hatch as soon as the indicator light turned green. A woman dressed in a golden security uniform with a Lieutenant's pipson her collarwas already waiting from them; her hands on her hips and a pained expression on her face.

"Well look what the cat dragged in..." She muttered, her eyes never leaving Dexter as he stepped out onto the deck.

"And it's a true pleasure to see you too, Meredith." He responded with a smile, "Permission to come adored?"

"Permission... granted, reluctantly." The woman gave MacKenzie the once over, "So, you must be the new Ensign that Captain called in so many favours to get? Well, he's too busy to see you right now. Mr Donnelly, if you would take her down to sickbay; Dr Isabel can see to her orientation. Then I do believe that Lieutenant Commander Iqbal is looking for you."

"Sir." The Petty Officer nodded, then gestured towards the door, "If you'll follow me."

"What was all that about?" MacKenzie asked once she was sure that they were out of earshot.

"Lieutenant Keys doesn't like having Mr Dexter on the ship." Donnelly explained with a shrug, "No one knows why. In fact, no one out side of the senior command crew know much about him."

"I see." MacKenzie nodded, "Or rather, I don't see. What do you know about him?"

"He's a close, personal friend of the Captain's, going back before he was given command of the _Exodus_." The reached a turbo-lift, and Donnelly pressed the call button, "He tends to keep to himself, although he is known to play chess with anyone who feels like a game in the recreation room. No one has ever beaten him, thou. Not even Lieutenant T'Pau or the Doc, and they're both Grand-Master level players."

"Is there anything else I should know?" MacKenzie asked as the lift arrived and the doors opened.

"Only that you're about the meet the most advanced holographic AI in Star Fleet." There was a faint look of mirth on Donnelly's face, and he suppressed a smile, "After that, anything else you face out here should be a walk in the park..."

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
